Our Love is No Variable
by PepoClap
Summary: All they needed was to get the damn guns from Chen Lin. They strolled in and found him missing, and now Columbian Police was firing their weapons into the doorway of the workshop. "Fucking hell, I didn't even shoot anyone this time!" Elizabeth, despite being caught behind a barrel and a hail of bullets, couldn't help but laugh.


Alright, I'm gonna ramble on here for a second. So if you just wanna hop into the story go ahead. However I do feel the need to drop some context for this story. The story starts at Finkton Proper, where Booker and Elizabeth are tasked to get the guns from Chen Lin for Daisy. I've got to say, I've been gone for a long time and it's a great feeling to come back to the scene and see it still prospering. I'm by no means the best author for Bioshock Infinite, and there are definitely other GREAT fanfics that have been posted lately and I've got to give it up to them for giving me the passion to come back to write this.

This was supposed to be published on the 31st, but I couldn't be bothered to edit it, so it had to come late.

I'm seriously grateful for people sending PMs for me to continue, that love is always appreciated and has not been unnoticed. I'm hoping and planning to turn this into more than a oneshot. For now, enjoy the longest thing I've written. I loved writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it. ~PepoClap

(For anyone wondering about my other works, I don't have anything to show for it just yet. Sorry.)

I'M BACK! I hope so, anyways.

* * *

Bullets immediately tore into the oak wood, tearing apart the large double doors. "Ah GOD DAMN IT-" Several more gunshots rang out, and Booker pulled Elizabeth to the side of the doorway, peeking every few seconds to make sure none of the police force rushed in. Booker reloaded his revolver, snapping in the speed loader. He raised his left hand, the strength rushing through his veins. He opened his palm, and the charged particles flew out of hand, picking up the officers that were watching the doorway. Booker sidestepped out of cover, his Colt Navy in his right hand, Shock Jockey spraying out of his left.

He let four shots ring out, each colliding with a skull. Four bodies hit the muddied road with a sickening crunch as their bones gave out. Booker turned to his left, and blasted electricity into one of Comstock's soldiers, bursting his head open with the amount of energy surging throughout his body. He pushed past the doorway and onto the outside, letting his final two shots catch two bodies. He slid across the floor, reloading as he reached several Fink™ crates. He popped his head over the green clad crates, raising his right arm and letting the hot lead pour out of the barrel. More cops hit the floor, giving Booker a second to take a breath. Elizabeth peeked her head out and shouted out to Booker, "Your carbine, Booker!" He turned to the source of her voice, his right hand outstretched as Elizabeth lobbed the rifle over with rehearsed precision.

He caught it, checking the magazine safely behind the crates. He could hear Elizabeth's boots click across the road as she walked her way towards him. She crouched next to him, "That was close. I've got to sa-" A loud rumbling stopped her from continuing. Booker gave her a shocked look, as his eyes scanned the rooftops for the source. "First they get the drop on me, and now _what?"_" Booker spat with venom in his voice. A large roar sounded directly behind them on one of the manufacturing buildings. Turning to face the sound, both of them stared as a massive form broke the horizon. Booker's eyes widened to comical proportions as he gazed at their latest opponent.

"ELIZABETH, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE-" Booker quickly shoved her out of the way, as the Handyman landed a few feet away from him. He scrambled backwards, firing shots into the Handyman's large arms, which seemed to be protecting his chest. The mechanical man, enraged, gave him an ear splitting roar at close range. Booker groaned, and the Handyman gave him a large swipe with his oversized hand. Managing to grab one of Booker's limbs, the Handyman tossed him like he was weightless.

Elizabeth let out a screech as she saw her savior sail through the sky, headed on a direct course for one of the many brick buildings. Booker's body changed directions in a split second, as his skyhook pulled him to one of the freight hooks hanging above the plaza. Matching the Handyman's yell with his own, Booker dropped to the street, letting his rifle fire out several shots, hitting the larger man's chest.

Elizabeth scrambled, looking for a tear to help assist Booker she caught sight of a slight ripple in the world's seams. Directly on top of one of the freight hooks was an alternative world, where a large cargo crate was swaying, obviously improperly fastened. If she could time it correctly, she could drop it directly on the Handyman.

Booker rolled, just barely ducking under a massive hook that the Handyman nearly connected with. He spinned around, his rifle spraying the metallic monster with precision. He squeezed his fist and tossed a fireball at the Handyman, causing it to yell in anger. Booker was getting it annoyed, and now he was running out of space on the auction platform. He hopped over the railing, crouching behind a table filled with various tools. He took a second to try and catch his breath, but his already high blood pressure shot through the roof when he heard his name being called. And not by Elizabeth.

"FALSE SHEPHERD!" The road shook as a massive weight was slammed onto it. He immediately darted out of cover as Elizabeth screamed at him. "Run under the hook! I have an IDEA!" Booker tossed a nod behind him, and broke off into a full sprint, with the Handyman a few feet away.

Booker could hear the distinct crackle, as the seams of the world above him was torn open. A screech of metal above him sounded out, and he could do nothing but dive for the entrance of one of the open buildings. He covered his head, as his ears were violated by a deafening explosion of crackles of electricity and fire. He pulled himself to his knees, staying there for a brief moment to take a breath. The Minuteman Armory automaton stared back at him, waving its arm to get him to check out its wares. He shook his head in a silent 'no.'

He got to his feet, brushing dirt off of his pinstripe pants and turned around. The Handyman muttered in pain, prompting to Booker pullout his revolver. He shot it in the head, and as he stepped forward, the body flickered and gave out a high pitched screech as it discharged some final electricity.

Then his brows furrowed. Usually this is the point where Elizabeth would dip her head out of wherever she was hiding behind and let out a quip. His body kicked back into overdrive, adrenaline pumping back into his veins. "Elizabeth! Elizabeth come out now!" He shouted out into the now empty plaza. His eyes scanned over the explosive's impact on his environment. Whatever container Elizabeth had pulled through the tear was filled with various Fink produced vigors. He looked down at his feet, where shattered bottles of red, purple and green covered the street. The center of the plaza,where people were bidding over job times a moment ago,was now covered in flames. Various crates and supplies that were scattered around, were blown apart. Booker scanned the wall that Elizabeth had take refuge behind. The railing was blown clean off, and boards of wood and bricks were tossed onto the road. Covered by a particularly large plank of wood was a small, petite figure.

His feet kicked away the shattered vigors with newfound energy. His body had seemed to have yearned to be as close to Elizabeth as possible, as he could feel the very fibers of his being pulling him towards her fallen form.

* * *

The stone cold cobblestone road was not comfortable. Nor was it doing her throbbing head any favors. Her bruised eyes shot open, her dulled blue orbs flickering around the scene before her. Elizabeth rolled her head to look to her left, and saw her savior rushing towards her at full speed. _This has got to be the first time I've seen Booker genuinely scared. Huh._ Her back throbbed, causing her groan out in pain. She laid there for a brief second, her throbbing body sending pain signals to her head. Her right ear was the first to regain hearing, and she could hear as Booker cursed to himself and called out to her. "Elizabeth, I've got you!" She watched as he crossed the gap of space between them in several long strides, his body tense.

Elizabeth shifted her weight, and tried moving into a crouch, but the pain in the right side of her body was excruciating. Almost as if she'd been impaled by a flaming stake, and it's burning flames were eating her insides like a ravenous boar. Her senses sharpened slightly, the shock of the explosion starting to wear off. She could feel the pressure of something crushing her chest. _Oh god, I'm gonna suffocate!_

Elizabeth could feel Booker's form slide across the road, and toss the piece of wood that was crushing her body with no effort at all. She watched as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, as he worked his hands to grasp her body, pleading that none of her bones were broken. He let out a sharp breath of relief and gazed at her.

She gripped Booker's much larger hand, her eyes wide in fear. He gave her a confident smile, and scooped her up into his arms, keeping her frame as close to his chest as possible. He gave her a light squeeze as he scanned her blue eyes. "You're gonna be fine, 'Liz. Just breathe, alright? Breathe for me."

Elizabeth nodded, taking a deep, shuddering breath. She needed to lower her heart rate, and get the blood thundering in her ears to stop. She let out a cough, and as she wiped her mouth, she took a glance down at her hand. _Is that really mine?_

Her palm had been scraped raw, and from where she wiped her mouth with it was stained in a deep hue of maroon. _God, my body HURTS_. She shut her eyes close with a tight squeeze, and as she regained control of her breathing, she could hear the change in Booker's footsteps. They weren't out in the open now. Loud, stone _clacks_ replaced with softer _tap taps,_ against the hardwood floors.

Booker tossed a quick glance behind him confirming that the Columbian police had been stopped, even if just for a brief minute. He looked down at her, scanning her bruised face he swiped a strand of hair out of her beautiful eyes. "I've got you Elizabeth, I'm gonna get us out of this damn Plaza of _Zeal_ and into a nice comfy bed, alright?"

With a quick, pained nod she acknowledged him. With an almost inaudible whisper, Elizabeth choked out, "How bad is it? Am I going to be okay?" Booker could almost feel the anxiety radiating off of her petite frame. He gave her a small smile, and continued their small trek, giving a quick glance to his left before ducking into an open doorway. "It looks worse than it actually is, now let me set you down somewhere."

Booker had stepped into what he now deduced as a portion of a former warehouse converted to living quarters. He stuck his head out, and he wasn't shot at. Even better, the housing unit was completely silent. He scanned the room he was in. It was relatively large, and one half of the room was a kitchen with shelves and cabinets lining the wall. The other half, closest to the entrance was a makeshift dining room. A nice sized table with several greyish wooden chairs surrounding it. He spotted the long counter on the other side of the room and figured it would be serviceable until he found a bed for Elizabeth. He strode his way towards the counter and hefted Elizabeth over his shoulder so that his left hand was free to clear the counter of clutter. Elizabeth moaned in pain into his shoulder, and he quickly scanned the counter for anything useful. Deeming none of it usable, Booker all but threw every single item on the large counter to the floor in a loud crash.

He gently laid her down, careful to not hurt her already bruised body. Booker drew his hand cannon and strode to the entrance. The door was made of quality wood, and had multiple locks. Still he reached for one of the chairs and used it to bar the turned back to her, "I'm gonna go clear the rest of the building, and look for a bedroom or something, I don't want anything less but a mattress for you right now." Elizabeth nodded and beckoned for him to come closer. He made it to her in three long strides. Elizabeth used all of her strength to grab Booker by his collar to bring him face to face with her. "Thank you, Booker. For… everything." She spoke calmly and mustered all of her courage and leaned in to kiss his cheek. In a clumsy move, she pressed her soft lips against his rough skin. Booker nearly fell backwards in shock from the one-two punch she pulled on him. He gave her a quick glance before moving to the threshold of the next doorway. Elizabeth was covered in a scarlet blush reaching from her collarbone all the way up to her cheeks. Booker stood for a second, and spoke, his back still to her. "I'm… Jesus, 'Liz are you _trying _to give me a heart attack?"

Elizabeth gave his broad shoulders a smile, "Just keeping my roguish savior on his tiptoes." She let out a small laugh, and in a lower voice she added in a vulnerable tone, "I'm serious Booker." Booker turned to face her, and Elizabeth could see his cheeks painted in a slightly pinker tone than they were before. "Let me fix you up first, Elizabeth, then we can talk."

Booker pulled out his Mauser, and peered into the hallway, his footsteps tapping away from Elizabeth. She nodded to herself, trying to tell herself that she was fine, and that the pain that was creeping up her body from her abdomen was just her imagination. Elizabeth took a deep breath and tightly gripped her dress with a strength she didn't know she possessed. A moment passed, and her head throbbed and that burning sensation come back in full force. She let out a pained yell, and curled into the fetal position. Her adrenaline had done it's best on holding off the pain till later, and now it was starting to wear off. Her eyesight became blurry as the tears that we're waiting to spill over, now ran down her eyes with newfound freedom.

Booker was off in the bathroom pulling open every cabinet open, looking for anything he could give Elizabeth. His eyes spotted a small health kit, and a small package with a red cross embossed on the front laying in the sink. He grabbed both, and had bolted back to Elizabeth when he heard her scream out in pain.

He tore open the small package first, a small roll of gauze and a small vial of white powder, labeled_ "For Abrasions"._ The white bag didn't have much more. More gauze, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a small sewing kit. He quickly turned to her, his emerald eyes scanning her face for any major lacerations and cuts. "Elizabeth, I'm gonna have to lift your shirt up to treat your abdomen, alright?" Elizabeth nodded, and thought inwardly that even in an emergency like this, he still had the manners to ask for her permission.

Booker pulled up the dirtied, formerly white shirt up to Elizabeth's ribcage. He took a sharp breath when he saw the right side of her stomach. There were other smaller cuts decorating her fair skin, but the major offenders were on her side. Two lacerations intersected in an almost sickening x, the blood a direct contrast to the rest of her porcelain skin. He turned to look at her, "I'm gonna need to pour some of this rubbing alcohol onto this cut. I'm not going to lie to you, it's going to burn."

Elizabeth reached for his arm for support, "Alright, do it before I start to tense or so-AH THAT ACTUALLY BURNS!" She ended with a shriek, and Booker could do nothing but kick himself for inflicting more pain to her. He wiped her wounds clean, and lightly patted a section of gauze with the colorless, odorless powder and applied it around her midsection. He stood up and tossed a look over his shoulder, at Elizabeth who was watching where he was going. "Just gonna get this rag wet, alright? I'm not gonna leave you." He turned on the sink that was in the corner of the room, and brought the rag under the stream of warm water. He turned the knob to the left, and walked back to Elizabeth, who had her eyes clenched close in pain. She had steady breathing, and seemed to be doing better than she was a small while ago. He leaned down towards her. "Alright 'Beth, that was the hard part, now let me wipe your hands. This is just warm water." She unclenched her hands and watched, as with an amount of grace she didn't know he possessed, Booker cleaned her raw palms of dirt and bacteria. He slung his rifle off his back, placing it against the counter Elizabeth was laying on. He picked her up bridal style once more, and set off to explore the last room in the small hallway that he assumed _had_ to be the bedroom. He nearly kicked the door clean off his hinges, as he had his hands preoccupied. With a small groan, Elizabeth curled her head closer to Booker's oddly soft and warm chest.

"Elizabeth, I'm _filthy_. You don't want to bring that pretty face of yours anywhere close to my grime covered clothes." He scolded her lightly, but Elizabeth burrowed her head closer to his chest. "I don't care,_ you're warm_." Her voice was slightly muffled, her face still pressed against his shirt.

Booker laid Elizabeth gently on the bed, taking good care to not damage the petite girl. He took a seat on a hard wooden chair next to the bed. "It's going to turn dark soon, so we'll be alright hunkering down here for the night. Daisy and her cronies can wait a while for those damn guns." Elizabeth turned her head towards Booker, "And if she decides to take off instead of waiting for us?" Booker gave her a reassuring smile, "Oh, she'll be turning in that ship to us. If she doesn't, it's not the prophet that she's gonna have to look out for. It'll be the_ False Shepherd." _Elizabeth let out a giggle, and they both held each other's stare for a short while before Booker cleared his throat.

"I'm going to check if there's anything around her for your head, and maybe some food too, We both haven't eaten in a while." He stood to his feet, as Elizabeth responded to him. "You think they've got anymore of that cotton candy here?" Booker's heart swooned, and the annoying blush that seemed to find it's way up to his face whenever Elizabeth was _too damn cute_ was threatening to break out. He turned back to her with a smile that he couldn't force down, "Maybe they've got a dog here too." Elizabeth let out a laugh, and he crossed the threshold of the doorway. As he walked out into the hallway he could practically feel Elizabeth's smile radiating through the wall between them.

He checked the main room, where he'd patched up Elizabeth and scanned it's contents. It was a spartan kitchen, some cabinets against a small wall, a simple stove and an icebox all tucked on one side of the room. There was a long counter, and towards the entrance was the dining table, with four wooden chairs surrounding it's sides. He brought a hand to his face, with a groan he mentally kicked himself.

_You're falling for her Booker, is this about the debts anymore? Paris or New York, Mister DeWitt?_ He gripped the cold metal handle of one of the cabinets and swung it open. "At this point, I don't care about my debts. I want to make her dreams come true." He spoke to himself. He reached for a small package of oats and tossed them onto the counter. He meticulously checked each cabinet for anything particularly useful, not just food. He scanned the small amount of food that was now on the counter. Some cereal, a serving of oats and a couple of apples and oranges. Not a feast by any means, but at least they wouldn't go to sleep with nothing in their stomachs. He turned to his right and shifted over towards the icebox. He took a step, and stood in front of the moderately sized box.

He clasped both his hands together in a quick prayer, _God if you're out there, please have meat in here._ His eyes scanned the first two racks, which were completely bare. He groaned and looked lower, greeted by the sight of a platter covered with foil. His stomach grumbled in excitement and pulled the cover aside. _Yeah, that's ham alright._ He'd hit the jackpot, and while the rest of the icebox of essentially empty, save for a few scraps here and there, this was his best haul yet.

Booker pulled the ham out of it's resting spot and placed it onto the counter. He opened some of the smaller drawers looking for a large chef's knife. A worn black handle caught his eye, and he grabbed the knife out of it's home. _That's one tool down, now where is the cooking oil and pans?_

He turned around and crouched. His hands grabbed the handles for a cabinet and was not greeted by any of the things he was looking for. He opened the cabinet to the left of it and pulled out a cast iron pan. He tossed it onto the stove and sighed. _Not like oil was essential anyways. The ham's cooked._

Booker was by no means a chef, but with an odd array of supplies he began to ponder what exactly he could produce. The ham was already cooked, and throwing in a pan to warm it up seemed like a perfect plan for himself. Still, there was Elizabeth to consider, and Booker was compelled to try and make something more… varied. He pulled open the drawer where he found the knife and rummaged around looking for… he got it. He lifted the grater out of the drawer. He looked at the counter and examined his limited options. He gave it a thought. Then it hit him. Not a revolutionary idea by any means. He decided that he'd zest the orange, have some slices of it on the plate, and also slices of apple? He didn't have much to go off of to be fair, and now that he looked at it, his dish wasn't very varied at all. "It's not unique damn it, but it's warm ham with some damn fruits. Whatever, she needs her vitamins anyways."

Chef DeWitt tossed the knife onto the counter, wiped his forehead and turned off the stove. He wiped his hands and used the rag lying on the wooden surface to at least slightly clean up the small mess he'd conjured up. He grabbed both plates and made it into the hallway.

He crossed back to the bedroom, where Elizabeth's soft snores sounded out in the otherwise quiet atmosphere. There wasn't any gunshots or explosions like earlier. No screaming or big crowds. He'd managed to move back several buildings, but he was surprised that the plaza was deserted, even if it was getting dark.

He placed the plates on the nightstand by the bed and he nearly cursed himself out, if Elizabeth had not been sleeping soundly a foot away from him. Quietly, Booker crossed into the kitchen once more and pulled open the icebox, praying for his drinkable vice to be sitting in the bottom shelf. He wasn't wrong, and an unopened bottle of _rose_ stared back at him. It wasn't water or a type of juice, but it has to do for Elizabeth. He took a glance at the label and nodded, he'd be okay with this.

As he walked back into the room, his conscious decided to scold him as looked over Elizabeth's sleeping form. _Maybe if it was just you, then drinking the night would leave you content enough. For Elizabeth's sake, maybe it's time you tried moderation, old man._

He swallowed and shook his head, those thoughts weren't lying, and he was seriously trying to heed their directions for her sake. _Speaking of her, it's time we've had a meal, I'm starving._

He lightly shook her small shoulder, "Elizabeth, I've got us food, you don't want to sleep until you eat anyways." Elizabeth mumbled and pushed her head deeper into the pillow. She was obviously out of it, but there was no telling when they'd have time to stop and have a meal, no matter how sparse it was.

He shook a little bit harder, and Elizabeth rolled to his side and her blue eyes opened. Slightly dazed, she reached out to grasp his cheek. Booker couldn't hide the blush that was now working it's way up his neck, and Elizabeth seemed to shake her tiredness. Her eyes widened as her face turned a shade of pink.

"Uh sorry about that, I don't-" Booker cut her off, "I don't mind Elizabeth, but we need to eat before this ham gets cold. If you fall asleep one more time, there's no promises that plate survives until you wake up."

She offered a small smile, and shifted so that she was sitting on the bed. Booker handed her the plate of now lukewarm ham and set down to finishing his plate. He blinked, and in one second the platter was filled with food, and the next it was empty. Save for the orange peels and some pieces of ham Booker that had too much fat for his personal taste.

He looked up at Elizabeth and opened his mouth, just to break the silence. Instead, he opened it, shut it, opened it but he couldn't find anything to say. It was oddly satisfying to just be sitting there with Elizabeth in the dark, grimy room. He muttered to himself something inaudible and Elizabeth stared back at him with a look of confusion. "Just some stray thoughts in my head, nothing…" He trailed off. Elizabeth shook her head lightly, "What is it? There's nothing around here for entertainment, and I'd rather you not get into another fight." Booker tensed for a split second before placing the plate back down onto the nightstand. _God Booker, pick you words carefully now. You don't wanna fuck anything up._

He leaned back into his chair, "I was just…. You don't deserve the hand you were dealt Elizabeth. I swear that I'll get us to Paris." He cut himself short before he could blurt out anything more embarrassing. He looked at Elizabeth, who's face contorted for a moment as she tried to figure out her feelings and settled on a genuine smile. "Booker, I… Thank you for getting me out of the tower. Even though you're a brute, a coldhearted killer and a-" Booker shot her a lighthearted glare, "I ain't exactly the Pope." He defended and earned himself a laugh out of Elizabeth. _I could get used to hearing that sound. _Elizabeth continued, " Even though you're all of those things, you still liberated me from my tower, my cage. Rosalind and Songbird were the only two people, save for a handful of nurses that I ever saw. Rosalind was… _nice_, and Songbird kept me safe. But-"

She took a good look at Booker, causing him to shift slightly in his chair. She took a deep breath and Booker quietly thought to himself about the fact that she moved closer to the edge of the mattress. _What have you gotten yourself into now, Booker?_ Booker's thoughts were cut short when Elizabeth pursed her lips together and continued. "But you freed me… and even though that may be part of the job for you,_ you_ took me out of that _hell_. Through all the things Comstock has thrown at us you kept me safe, and… what I guess I'm trying to say is that…. Uh." She stumbled over her words, not expecting to have pushed herself this far. Booker stood in shock, his train of thought not only stopped, but completely derailed and causing the rest of his mind to shut down.

Elizabeth mustered her courage and lunged forward, pulling Booker's shirt collar downwards so that she could reach his lips. Inexperienced lips prodded his rough ones. Booker could only reel backwards in shock, she held the kiss and Booker's mind finally came back into full gear. The rational part of his mind was nowhere to be seen, instead his instincts guided him. He gently wrapped his larger hand on the side of her waist and brought her closer to his chest. He could feel the almost burning sensation of both of their bodies pressed together, the heat of Elizabeth's petite frame seeping past his shirt. He deepened the kiss, and in the next second he was no longer sitting on the hard chair and was instead hovering over Elizabeth on the mattress, both of them struggling to find their breath.

Booker's mind was prepping an assault on his conscious, he was sure. Elizabeth cut those thoughts from ever arriving at their destination by kicking them cleanly off of their figurative airship with another kiss. This one was softer, and more intimate, the desperateness of Elizabeth trying to get Booker to understand was gone. Instead, as they broke away, Booker couldn't help but have his heartbeat thud out of control. Elizabeth gave him a wide smile, and Booker lost himself in her beautiful eyes. _Fuck everything else, I have to get her to Paris._ He laid his head in the crook of her neck and relaxed onto the bed. Elizabeth turned to face him and lightly scolded him with a little slap to his left shoulder. "Bo-uh-ker, I'm _dirty_. I haven't taken a shower since I've bee-" Booker he cut her off by pulling her closer to him, wrapping his arm across her small waist. He gazed back into her orbs with his emerald eyes shining, "Don't care, you're _warm_." He responded with the exact line she used on him earlier in the day. Elizabeth's lips curled up even further and she nuzzled him. "I've never felt like this before, Booker. To be honest, I'm… _anxious_, but if you're by my side, then I know we'll get out of Columbia." Booker at this point, felt like he was on the verge of cardiac arrest. He gently placed his forehead against hers, and stared into her eyes, his walls weren't falling, they were completely shattering. As if Elizabeth's love had been a sledgehammer that had demolished the defenses keeping her from getting so close to his heart. "Elizabeth, I'm a sinner, a killer, a drunk and a deadbeat man. But if you really want me, you have all of me. I swear to you, I'm getting us to Paris, and we'll be gone from this…" He fumed, the anger making him lose control of the point he was trying to make, thankfully, Elizabeth steadied him by lightly squeezing his hand. Her small fingers gently intertwining with his much larger ones. "I… I love you, Booker. Promise me that when we leave Columbia, you won't leave me." She finished much quieter than she started, ending in a low whisper. The blush she managed to hold off for a while came back, and Booker reinforced the need to protect her. She was pouring her love for him, and Booker was willing to accept it. "Of course, don't _ever_ think otherwise. There's only a couple things guaranteed in life; death, taxes and my love for you, alright?"

Elizabeth stifled a small giggle and buried her head into her _lover_. Booker could feel her smile pierce through his clothing and stain his skin like a tattoo. He kept her close, and as they both lay in the darkness he could feel his body dull the aches and woes he was currently facing with warmth. _What is this girl doing to me? I'm a goner, she's got me completely under her spell. I've got to get her to that damn city of love now._ His thoughts could wander later, as they were interrupted when he could feel Elizabeth's arms wrap around his chest as she pulled as close to his body as physically possible. He rested his head on top of hers and let his exhausted body relax. He breathed a sigh of relief, thankful for Elizabeth and _especially _thankful for the mattress. With Elizabeth around, he'd have to sleep on a plush chair or on a wooden floor with a light blanket, which wasn't the worst place to be, but now he was in a proper bed. With Elizabeth, no less, someone he did not expect to be a relationship when he first took the job way back in New York. He let his final thought pass and felt sleep envelop him, draping his body in a thin sheet of comfort. He breathed one final breath in the grimy warehouse building that had been converted into a living space for Fink's massively underpaid workers. He and Elizabeth were safe, even if it was only for the time being.

* * *

Elizabeth woke first, with a start when she felt a foreign pressure on the top of her head. She cracked her eyes open, dazed and slightly confused at the figure lying next to her. She blinked twice, and the fogginess in her head faded away and the memory of last night came back full force. Her cheek flared up red, as she remembered the embarrassing actions and words she spoke last night. She shifted her head, and saw a completely vulnerable Booker. His mouth was slightly ajar, a thin strand of saliva was sticking to the pillow. Several strands of his hazelnut colored hair was hanging over his forehead, wild and uncombed. She mused to herself, she never thought a man such as Booker would be the one to save her, but she grew fond of the man as the journey panned on. _I think I could get used to waking up next to him, I wonder where our apartment would be… Overseeing the Seine and with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower? _Her thoughts were cut short by a rough voice breaking her daydreaming. "What are you starin' at? Like what you see?" He let out a small laugh and Elizabeth could see the corner of his mouth raise slightly. Giving her the rare sight of one his smiles. She blushed, her cheeks turning an even deeper hue of red. Booker gave her a quick once over, and stretched himself, sitting up in bed.

Elizabeth rose with him, and used the corner of the bed to propel herself to her feet. She had some pep back into her body, despite the fact that she suffered from a handful of burns and knicks from the close call with the explosion to her wooden cover yesterday. She turned to her right, and saw Booker placing his Colt Navy back into his side holster and reaching for his M1 Carbine. He could feel a pair of eyes staring into his back as he turned to face her, his hands adjusting his red cravat. He brought his gaze to her, and Elizabeth spoke for the first time this morning. "Ready to go, Booker? It's unfortunate we miss the most important meal of the day, but hopefully there will be food at the Good Time Club. After all, Fink seems to be oddly fond of you." Booker smirked at her, "What can I say, what's not to love about me?" Elizabeth faked a laugh and moved forward to give him a quick peck on the lips as they made their way back to the kitchen. "Don't let it get to your head, _dear._"

Booker's heart rate increased, and he shot her a look. Elizabeth gave him a slightly smug smile as she picked up on Booker's light blush. "God, the things you do to me." He murmured to himself, as Elizabeth went to grab his left hand. He unlatched the locks on the worn door and opened the door slightly. Peeking his head to the left, before swinging it completely open, gun drawn. They both stepped out into the morning light, and saw that the police force had been refilled in the plaza. Booker let out an audible groan. "Of course this was bound to happen, guess this serves me right for taking a rest instead of pushing on."

Booker ushered her forward behind several Fink™ crates before joining her. He swung his rifle off his back, and checked the magazine. Elizabeth peered over the top of the green box and scanned the plaza, "I'll try and look for tears, but I can't see any from over here." Booker gave her a nod, "Right. Let me take some of them out, and then you can move up. Keep your head down, alright?" He got a small nod of acknowledgement as he charged out of cover, his hand curled around a fistful of magma.

Booker tossed a curveball, hitting an officer with direct strike to the left side of his face. The rest of the burning matter splashed around his cohorts, lacing them with flames sticking to their clothes. As they panicked, Booker raised his carbine and took a short breath. Four bullets flew out of the barrel, and four bodies fell to the muddied streets.

He turned his attention to his left, where in the center of the plaza an amassment of heavily armed soldiers had turned his attention to him. He ducked behind a wall of scraped and worn brick as their repeaters served up hot lead at a breakneck speed. He caught his breath, peeking once more, with a gust of a steed coursing through his veins.

He opened his palm, and a charge of air rushed forward, knocking several soldiers to the sky. Taking this opportunity as they were distracted, Booker opened fire as he ran forward to a new position behind several barrels and an overturned cart. He tossed another fireball at them, and sprayed the rest of them down the last of his clip. Four still stood, ducking behind the metal railings of their elevated position.

His head snapped up as he was slamming a new box magazine into the receiver. The Pinkerton poked his head and fired half a magazine into two of the remaining four men. They hit the floor with a thud. Taking this opportunity to swing out and take out the last two, he rolled out of cover, one hand squeezing the trigger of the carbine. The other had pulled the remaining two men into the sky.

He holstered his rifle onto his back and turned to his injured companion, who was limping towards him. He took her left hand in his bandaged right, giving her a genuine smile. She beamed at him, and they both walked the cobblestone streets with Booker deep in thought. _Who woulda thought? _There was no rest for them just yet, as a machine gun automaton spinned up, it's yellow eyes turning a bright shade of red. Booker dived with Elizabeth in his arms behind a stack of lumber. He took the majority of the impact with his back, and shot to his feet. Electricity ran through the tips of his fingers and blasted the machine. It shook, and Booker unloaded his carbine into the robot. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and took several steps forward, peeking his head past the gate. There were several carts abandoned, but no other human was in sight. He sighed in relief, grabbing the phial of salts before turning back towards Elizabeth. She gave him a look, wiping her stained skirt with her small hands. He stretched out his hand, and brought Elizabeth close to his frame. Opening the brass plated double doors of the Good Time Club, they both scurried inside expecting to be met with opposition. Instead, an automaton behind a sheet of glass waved at them, "Good day sir or madam, the show is about to begin!" Booker tossed Elizabeth a look, who merely shrugged her shoulders in response.

Booker made his way into the lobby, where a fallen carbine and phial of salts lay on the floor. Reaching over to grab the magazine out of the gun, the intercom above him sounded. Fink announced in satisfaction. "Ah, DeWitt, my boy! You know, the best kind of interview is the one where the applicant doesn't know he's being evaluated!" Booker could almost feel the glee radiating from the man's voice all the way down to them. Fink continued, letting out a laugh. "I've watched since the other day at the lottery. I must say, you are a brute! And at times like this, I could use a brute!" Booker could start to feel the hair on the back of his arms start to prick up when Fink had decided to take a lower tone. He could feel Elizabeth hand clasp his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. He turned to face her, opening to say something, but Fink cut him off. "Fitzroy has got the jungle all riled up, and a man like me could use a former Pinkerton like you." Booker's face paled slightly at the mention of his former occupation. Elizabeth gave him one of those, '_we're talking about this one later._"

Booker helped Elizabeth take the stairs one at a time, holding her as she painfully took each step with a grimace on her face. He attempted to lighten the mood,"You think the payment for taking this job for Fink is an airship?" Booker joked, turning his head towards Elizabeth. "Har har."


End file.
